


Histories of Glovemansion

by SchrodingersKitten



Category: Dwarf Fortress
Genre: Based off actual gameplay, Fantasy, Forts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-22 06:11:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13160910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SchrodingersKitten/pseuds/SchrodingersKitten
Summary: The history of my current fort, written as it unfolds.





	Histories of Glovemansion

We have survived, perhaps even thrived, for two years, and yet no one has yet set pen to parchment. It is my duty to rectify this.

I am Kubuk Pagestrength, and I am one of the original seven to arrive at the Swamps of Inching, a member of the party led by Ablel Treatylimbs, and the former broker for Glovemansion. We arrived in the fifth year of this world, and immediately set about supplying the fledgling fort with it's basic necessities. Ablel forbade the production of wine in these days, hoping to build up a large stockpile of foodstuffs with which we could later brew and feast. In the stead of alcohol, we drank from the murky pools surrounding our homes.

We built a vertical structure in the mountain, with each layer being dedicated to a certain aspect of life and culture. The upper layers were largely dedicated to the bare necessities of life and progress, workshops and dorms and farms, but as we moved farther from the red clay at the mouth of the mountain Ablel instructed us to construct more frivolous and unusual structures, such as a a large temple complex dedicated to four different gods, an entire level devoted to the preservation of history, and so on. Not useless buildings, by any means, but not what one would expect to expend resources on in a young fortress.

Late that summer, I was named broker by Ablel. At the autumn trade, I was apparently too ambitious for the dwarven traders from Mountainhome, and both parties left empty handed. Ablel was not happy about that, but she kept her mouth shut.

It was within the first year that tragedy first struck. A recent immigrant was drinking from the murky pool to the south and west of Glovemansion's only entrance, and enraged some alligators hiding in the rushes. They followed him into the fort, with catastrophic results. At first they merely crawled through our halls, upsetting but harmless, but eventually they began attacking. There was a massacre in the temple, with 3 major injuries. In the main stockroom, unarmed dwarves tried to drive off one with fists and stones, many of them sustaining wounds.

It was in the midst of this crisis that Glovemansion's first hero was born. Avuz Sealspell, our most prodigious miner, was attempting to enjoy his meal of raw plump helmets, which he prefers over the cooked meat we offer, when an alligator began harassing him. Well, Avuz takes his pick and wallops the thing upside the head, and goes right back to eating! The lizard sat in the corner for a moment before rushing him again, and this cycle repeats about four or five times, when Avuz has finally had enough and pierces the beasts heart with his pick. It scampers off and succumbs to it's wounds right outside the front door. Not much later, the other two alligators are driven out by the large groups ineffectively attacking them.

In the following havoc, it was Avuz who almost single-handedly carted buckets of water to the injured littering the fort. I'd say there were less than five out of some thirty odd left standing, myself not among them. I remember seeing Avuz tower over my fallen body as he dipped a rag into the murky water and brought it to my lips. We all bear our scars, but Avuz ensured we all survived.

Following the attack, Ablel demanded we have a hospital to care for the still-wounded. Kogsak Bustcontrols was named chief medical dwarf and construction began immediately. It was a simple affair, but workable. Catten Cryptgod was quickly loaded into one of the beds, and winter ended, leading us into our second year.

6 was a strange year, and I am thankful to be done with it. Ablel has something she is not telling us, I am sure. She has made a wide variety of bizarre architectural choices this year. The foremost of these is the room she has hidden behind the Crypt in late spring, a mechanical nightmare. It is composed of two chambers, with two doors. The innermost door is designed to be openable from inside or outside, while the outer door can only be opened from the outside due to a system of levers. In the second chamber are a bed, a coffin, and a craftsdwarf's workshop. About this time, she began carefully vetting new immigrants, asking about their family and their religion. I can only wonder what she has planned.

While it is not as much discussed as the strange crypt room, she has made many odd decisions with a planned level devoted to the living spaces of the nobles. While mining here, we struck a cavern, which was promptly blocked off from one entrance. Ablel had an opening created in her own room, sheer drop several layers into the cavern.

Not the least concerning is that each noble's room comes with it's own tomb attached; each noble will be sleeping not twenty feet from their own coffin. It makes me glad that I was replaced early summer by some newcomer, Ablel apparently being displeased with my performance the prior year.

She also appointed Onol Roughtunneled to the status of militia commander- the first of many startling military improvements. She seems to be preparing for a siege, despite the nearest other society being three days away. She has made two distinct military squads- the "First Guard" and the "Wrestle Daddies". The First Guard are a rather sorry excuse for a first line of defense. Glovemansion suffers from an alarming lack of metal, forcing each member to be armed in unusual ways. Avuz was chosen for the First Guard, and allowed to keep his pickaxe as a weapon, which he has shown himself to be deadly capable with. Onol himself has a bronze axe which was brought with us in the beginning of all this. The last two are being sent into war with wooden weapons, laughably.

The Wrestle Daddies are somehow even worse- all three are extremely strong, sturdy men, but what was originally envisioned as an elite force of hand-to-hand warriors has been defiled to mismatched rabble. They simple get what primitive weapons are left over- a mess of wooden swords and things Ablel decided to put in their hands.

The entrance has been laden with traps, cages and spikes that will rise out of the floor. I fear it will not be enough to soften the blow to our pitiful forces, but it is something. All this has been taking up the entirety of the year, among other, stranger war related projects.

Ablel has laced the swamp with cage traps, hoping to catch the three alligators who attacked us last year. I cannot say I approve; I carry many scars from those creatures, and it took Catten three whole seasons to pull herself out of bed, even with a crutch. These beasts put us at death's door, and she wants to tame and breed them! She claims to have heard rumor that goblins sometimes ride them as mounts, but we are not goblins.

Last Autumn, a metalworker by the name of Aban Limarlitast was overcome by a strange mood. We had seen this before, with the child, Ib. Ib's bizarre state had given us a great gift, the bracelet Shinstizash Sumun Talul, an example of almost otherworldly craftsmanship which is currently stored in the Hall of Memories, where we place all the greatest achievements of culture. Naturally, the majority of us were quite excited, until he sat down at his forge. We had no metal.

He say there several days before Ablel ordered him walled up. He never even noticed as the walls went up, closing him in his workshop. Through autumn we listened to his mad babbling through the wall, and halfway through winter, he was dead. Immediately following his death, another dwarf came under this mood, and we attempted to wall her up as well, which failed, and thankfully so. By the end of the year she had crafted another fine artifact, a granite ring she called Idashrutod Udil Oslan. Amazingly, the craftsdwarfship was superior even to Id's ring and it was holed away with the other artifact.

Just as winter was wrapping up, we received a final wave of immigrants, although not the usual caravan of dwarves. Four human monster hunters joined our community, drawn by the caverns we had uncovered. Ablel was eager to recruit them into the cause, and they patrol the caverns near the entrance to the Noble's quarters.

I am filled with hope and apprehension for the coming year. I pray that Ablel's dreams of war remain unrealized, and that sweet Id is safe after all.


End file.
